


Cotillion

by OtoRose



Series: The Rearing Of A Fine Lady [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Anal Sex, Ballroom Dancing, Clothed Sex, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Height difference, Jealousy, Light BDSM, Mild Discipline, Muscles, NSFW, Politics, Protocol Top, Sex, Smut, Threesome - F/F/F, Topping from the Bottom, Trans Female Character, Trans romance, Trans!Camilla, Voyeurism, cis!Selena, implied lucisev, trans!Benny, trans!Charlotte
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-11-18 12:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtoRose/pseuds/OtoRose
Summary: Charlotte finally managed to catch a royal eye - but it's Princess Camilla's, and she seems determined to make Charlotte "fit" for royal society.The question is - what'll Charlotte do when she gets there?





	1. Lesson One: Invitation

The willow reed, lithe and elastic, whipped with a swift and solid sound against the skin of Charlotte’s rear.

“You’re slouching! Back straight, arms to your sides! You’d be ripping out the seams in your dress, if you were wearing one! Do you want to be a laughingstock?” The haughty voice burned in Charlotte’s ears as her armored body jolted upright, into a straight-backed seated position.

Not just upright; she kept rising, until she was eye-to-eye with the still-smiling woman, so close she could smell the honeyed-tea scent of her. “I’ll give  _YOU_ ripped seams!” She snarled, her fingers curling into a fist.

* _Some Time Earlier_ *

Charlotte clutched at the statuary beneath her hand, frustrated fingers pressing tight to the marble pedestal. It was cold, at least, and that soothed her hot blood somewhat. Hardly enough.

“UGH! That three-faced, fruit-headed BRAT!” Beneath her manicured thumb, the marble developed a hairline crack. “He won’t even FLIRT! It’s like he’s got a kidney where his heart should be! What kind of a prince can’t even bother to be polite?” She snarled, her breath steaming in the cool air. The crack in the marble spidered beneath her palm.

“Dear, he spent his whole life practicing archery and hunting.” A voice, behind her, sultry and slithering. “He can see you well before you see him, and probably hear you as well. He knew perfectly well who you were and what you were planning before you said a single word.”

Beneath Charlotte’s hand, small fragments of marble snapped off into expensive splinters. BENNY should’ve been behind her. It was always Benny that waited for her – Benny was here when she’d left to pursue her latest target, after all, and she might’ve been just a LITTLE rage-blind when she returned but she’d never have mistaken THIS woman for Benny.

Not with those curves, and that long, curling hair, though she did still have to tilt her head up to look her in the eye. “What’d you…”

“Don’t worry about your friend, darling. He’s fine – off being a gallant hero, saving one of my subordinates at this very moment. There was some rumor about a rampaging bull? I passed it on to her, and she’s likely gone and done something very brave and foolhardy.” Camilla’s soft sigh clouded her eyes for the briefest of moments, her smile warming the chill air. “But enough about our minions, mmm? We should share this moment and talk.”

“Talk? What’s there to talk about with YOU?” Charlotte tipped her nose up into the air, attempting to pass off her necessary upturned gaze as haughty and dismissive.

“Why, your recent, and unsuccessful, attempt on the life and fortune of Prince Takumi of Hoshido, of course!”

The pedestal shattered under Charlotte’s clenched fist.

“If you’re here to rub it in, you can just turn and… and walk away!” She clenched her teeth. “We can’t all be royalty with our own pet dragon-princess to dote upon and our luxurious baths and clothes and… and…”

“And one statue fewer.” Camilla arched a slender eyebrow at the ruined pedestal and now-askew figure. “Corrin had that commissioned to commemorate my service to her army.  That sort of thing might anger a woman of poor temperament.” She cascaded her long fingers elegantly into a fist, drawing Charlotte’s attention and effectively giving her pause.  “Which is exactly what I wanted to speak to you about. Your technique might have fooled the rank and file back in the army, lovely. But it is _not_ going to deceive a prince. And I assume you won’t be content just fleecing individual rubes one at a time forever, will you?”

Camilla’s eyes shone, and her voice was even, soothing, almost hypnotic. Charlotte found herself nodding along before she even understood the words being spoken. But not for nothing was she the strongest woman in the army. Halfway through the word “No”, Charlotte shook her head, setting her jaw, a fire burning behind her eyes. “Why should you care about my ‘technique’?” She spat through clenched teeth. “I shouldn’t even be speaking with you – if anything, you’re _competition._ ” She let the word drip from her lips like venom – rather artfully, she hoped. A nice, veiled threat.

“Competition.” Camilla’s response was flat, even slightly amused. “For my own fortunes? For the hands of my brothers in marriage? Do all of your sort think royalty so very deviant?” Camilla leaned forward, her smile playful, and traced a delicate gloved finger from the iron collar protecting Charlotte’s neck down just above the swell of her breasts. “ _YOU_ are not my _competition_ , darling.  Even at your very best, it’s clear you lack the refinement and poise needed to be a _lady_.” 

Charlotte careened through a series of imagined retorts, each one silenced by Camilla before it could be spoken.

‘A LADY? What do you know about being a lady, you sister-obsessed-‘

“But I could teach you.”

‘Teach ME? You couldn’t teach a-

“Give you more weapons than that stupid empty smile and that ‘tee hee’ and your lunch boxes.”

‘Weapons? Maybe, but-

“Someone as strong and as crafty as you are can do ever so much better – but you never got the chance, did you?  You had to stay safe and secure in a hostile world, and you only had so many options.”

‘Safety. Anyone would’ve done it, in my place. It was the right choice-‘

“Nobody could blame you.”

‘Nobody!’

“And really, darling, you _deserve_ armor your size. We’ll get you fitted for something properly.”

‘Armor that FITS, oh god, to breathe on the battlefield…’

 By the time Camilla finished, Charlotte was outwardly fuming at the selfish nature of princes, the indignity of needing to performing a vapid charade of femininity (safety, always safety), and the particular injustice of having been forced by a cruel world to wear a (custom-crafted) metal torc-and-collar designed (at her specifications) to ‘enhance and pronounce’ her bodice.

It suddenly felt physically painful to be wearing the huge, heavy metal collar. Well, it always did. But at that moment more constrictive than ever.

Painful, and far, far too warm for her liking.

“Yeah, all right. I could use some new tools of the trade. But what do YOU get out of this? You’ve hardly ever spoken to me, and suddenly a princess is gonna fall outta the sky, into my lap, and show me how to win over someone rich? Where’s your take?”

Camilla, Charlotte noted, had the most _infuriating_ cat-in-cream smile at certain moments. In the future, looking back, she might have realized what that entailed. “I’m a princess, darling. I have everything I could want, don’t I? Isn’t that how it works for a princess? Perhaps I’m just a little bored. Perhaps I’ve grown a bit weary of seeing the ship of your heartfelt efforts dashed against the dull rocks of boorish men.” Charlotte felt the barest sensation beside her ear; in her closeness, Camilla was wrapping one of Charlotte’s blonde ringlets around her fingers.

Any other woman would have lost an arm for daring such familiar contact, but Camilla’s tone of voice and subtle pressure continued. “But all that’s bluster, isn’t it? You’re clever enough to see. As it happens, I just think you deserve better as a faithful servant of Nohr. You worked hard growing up. You’re the strongest woman in the country. And you fought faithfully, both on the frontlines for my country and on the battlefield for my sister. And you send half of everything you earn back to your parents. On a soldier’s pay, no less!" A momentary pause. "And your mother’s doing poorly now, isn’t she?”

Charlotte, her back firmly against the statue, felt her breath catch in her throat and tears well in her eyes. As she spoke, an accusation grew into something softer. “You knew.”

“I had Beruka take a look into the matter. It really is noble, isn’t it, all your sacrifice? But if I gave you money, it wouldn’t be enough, would it?”

“Money goes. I need a future, something more secure than swinging an axe.”

“You deserve that. _They_ deserve that. So for your service, that’s what I’m giving you. I’m giving you your ‘big break.’ That’s what you wanted when you joined, wasn’t it? Your efforts have finally paid off!”

Camilla took a step back from Charlotte, who found herself dizzied, short of breath, and practically plastered to the statue with its many new stress-fractures. “I’m sure you can understand why I shooed your companion away, no? But I’m sure he’ll be back any moment, and you can tell him…”

“Charlotte?” Benny’s voice was far smaller than his frame – one expected a mountainous boom, but got something much more akin to ‘polite schoolmaster.’ “Charlotte, sorry I’m late – Oh, Lady Camilla, thank the gods you’re here. Selena’s down in the village square, she got it in her head she could stop a charging bull with one hand, and she’s all right but she’s shaken up pretty bad. And if you don’t mind it comin’ from me, I think she could really use your company right now, she looked like she was right on the edge of…” Benny faltered under the tempered-steel gaze of his blonde companion. “Yeah, sorry, Charlotte.”

“Well, if my darling Selena is in distress then there’s nothing to do for it but to go to her aid, is there? She can be such a delicate flower sometimes – for someone so fierce, she needs ever so much attention.” Camilla’s curved form briefly sheltered Benny from Charlotte’s gaze. Smiling, the Princess graced his hand with a feather-light touch from her gloved hand and sent a blush careening up the four feet between his heart and his cheekbones. “Thank you for providing such thoughtful care for her in her time of need, dear Benoit. Charlotte is exceptionally lucky to have you to rely upon.” A parting smile for Charlotte, as Camilla disappeared between the remaining statues. “Do call upon me whenever you’re free, darling! Tomorrow, shall we say? I’m afraid my evening’s just been occupied!”

“Oh, she is _good_.” Charlotte muttered, as the lilac-haired terror swayed out of sight.

“So, uh.” Benny stared down at his hands for a moment, the blush still burning in his cheeks. “So what was all that about? And how’d it go with Prince Takumi? You hunted him down, right?”

Charlotte spun on her heel, away from the retreating princess, and straightened her back, in her best imitation of Camilla’s generous-yet-intimidating stare. “ _Takumi_ is an uncultured oaf and his hair looks like an exotic fruit! Forget that bone-headed lump of furs and arrows! A _really_ big hit is just around the corner, Benny! And I’m about to go and get it!”


	2. Lesson Two: Posture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte accepts Camilla's invitation to learn courtly manners, the better for her to hook a sophisticated (rich) suitor. 
> 
> It proves somewhat more intricate, and painful, than Charlotte had anticipated. But she's hardly one to let jealousy, a lack of manners, or a very forward Princess hold her back...

 

“Greet me.”

Charlotte had prepared herself to be awed by the luxury of the princess’s chambers.  Jewelry boxes overfull with diamonds and pearls, spilling forth onto a gilded vanity with a velveted chair and an ornate mirror! A four-post bed, perhaps, draped with colored silks, to conceal her from the outside world and to allure lovers with her curvaceous silhouette! Carpet she could just dig her toes into, deep and soft and colored the red of the port wine she most certainly drank nightly! Of course, there’d be a closet filled with gowns, robes, and armor, each outfit more beautiful and fearsome than the last, and all of it worth a king’s ransom! Or a princess’s!

She was therefore met with great disappointment when she cased… _examined_ the room for characteristics reflecting the beauty, or at least the wealth of its occupant. It was almost as modest as her own quarters. Diamonds failed to spill like fountain-water from corpulent jewelry cases. There was very little gilt to be seen anywhere. No draping silks, no seraglio-incense.  Not even a throne! There didn’t even seem to be a single music box! Princesses HAD to have those, right?

There was a soft cough from one corner of the room.  Charlotte could HEAR it dripping with smug self-satisfaction. That mercenary ferret the princess had taken under her wing! What’d she do to get such special treatment, anyway? Charlotte could launch her halfway across Nohr with only one…

“ _Greet me._ ”

Selena’s barely concealed laugh turned into a snort as she leaned against a back wall, and Charlotte’s attention swerved from her newest hate-friend to the very reason she’d knocked at a princess’s door.

When Charlotte had entered the room, Camilla was sitting, her legs crossed, on a cushioned chair opposite the doorway, as if holding court in that small space.

When Charlotte returned her attention to Camilla, Camilla was standing. With one hand on her hip, cocked sideways just so, her eyes peering at Charlotte as though in search of minor flaws.

“Ah!” Charlotte straightened. “Lady Camilla. Thank you for inviting me…”

“Pathetic.”

The force of the word struck Charlotte full across the cheek. In the back, Selena snorted again as she covered her mouth.

“What’s the deal? I thought you were going to teach me how to hook someone rich!” Charlotte managed, hesitantly, color draining from her cheeks.

“I am going to teach you how to ‘hook’ a Prince. If you are going to hook one, you must first learn how to speak to one. How many ‘tee-hees’ do you think my brother Xander endures daily? How many do you think he wishes to endure?” She sighed, and though the two were on even footing, it suddenly felt to Charlotte as though Camilla were towering above her.

Camilla returned to her seat and crossed her left leg over her right, and Charlotte decided the room required no throne.

“Once more. Greet me.”

“Ah.” Charlotte shifted – the mask was less pleasant to put on around women, but she’d done it before. “Lady Camilla…”

“Your Highness.” Selena sneered, from the back of the room.

Charlotte spun, snarling at the interloper. “Is she ALWAYS going to watch?”

Camilla favored both women with a bemused smile, and Selena folded her hands in front of her with an unabashed grin. “My darling retainer protects me, and is never far from my hand. And she is correct. My formal address is ‘Her Royal Highness, Princess Camilla of Nohr and its Principalities.’ Of course, you need not call me any such thing around the camp. But in a formal setting, if you were to greet a strange royal…

Charlotte sighed. “Of course. Your Highness. Sorry.” She strained over the words, and took a deep breath. “Good evening, Your Highness!” One was supposed to curtsey before royals, right? She leaned forward, almost parallel with the floor, spread her arms delicately, crossed one foot back with pointed toe-

-and felt a hand on her back, and one against her breastbone, pushing her upwards firmly. “A curtsey is not a bow,” Camilla said, adjusting Charlotte’s posture. Charlotte marveled for a moment at the soft, gentle feel of the kidskin gloves against her bare back, pleasant despite Camilla’s irresistible force. “You’re well-endowed, but the purpose of a curtsey is not to show off just how well-endowed you are. I promise, all of camp knows and all of court _will_ know. You will not have to tell them.” Charlotte’s indignation was stifled by her blush. “During a curtsey, your back is straight. But we will practice later. As you are not wearing a dress, it would have been more appropriate to bow.”

“She’s not wearing much of ANYTHING.” Selena sniped.

“Furthermore,” Camilla continued, despite the interruption, “as you are in the military, a formal salute would have sufficed as well.”

“A salute?” Charlotte snorted. “I want them to see a woman, not some-“ a glance back to Selena “-ruddy sword-polisher.”

Camilla leveled her gaze at Charlotte. “If you had walked into my chambers and saluted before me, what I would have seen was a beautiful, capable woman. A woman willing to give life and limb for me and for my country. One who was presenting herself to me for my approval and pleasure.”

Charlotte immediately flattened her hand and snapped it across her breast in a salute.

“Yes, that will do.” The princess purred. “You must understand there are two types of suitors for you at a court. The first wishes to obtain you as a trophy, and that person will restrict your access to power and to money. You will live in luxury, but in truth you will have nothing.”

Camilla stood, striding forward. “And then there is a second sort. The sort that recognizes both your strength and your beauty, and desires and has use for both. The sort that will trust you with her own strength, and share her control with you.”

Charlotte met Camilla’s stride full on. “Court sounds more and more like a dump every time you talk! I want a prince , sure but what matters is that I get a line on gold. But YOU’RE saying…” Charlotte lifted two fingers. “That I got a choice between being owned, and being used. And I’m not in this for either. I don’t GET used.” Her face was careful, stone-set and stoic.

“Is that true, darling?” Camilla leaned in, a hairsbreadth from Charlotte’s ear, and whispered.

“ _Back straight, Princess._ ”

Charlotte’s whole frame, sagging in the beginning of a casual slouch, snapped bolt upright.

“Your mask is excellent, and I have no doubt you very rarely ‘get used.’” Camilla didn’t even miss a beat. “But the powerful all have masks, and theirs are refined. Yours must match theirs. In any case, I was not suggesting you serve anyone. After all, you already have a beneficial relationship with me.” Camilla beamed. “And from my discussions with our dear Benny, you are quite familiar with mutual arrangements, no?”

“Yeah, maybe…” Charlotte hesitated, then rallied. “If you think I can’t dupe a dandy, I’ll show you better! It’ll be easy as it gets!”

Camilla smiled beatifically. “Exactly. Quite a lot like our little partnership, in fact.”

From the back of the room, Selena choked on a drink of wine she had lifted to her lips.

“You’re practically going to take the kingdom by _storm!”_ Camilla effused, placing a gentle finger on Charlotte’s forehead. “But first, your lessons. Your posture is the foundation of your command at court, especially as a woman, at least at first glance. You cannot curtsey, dance, beguile, or seduce without complete control over yourself.” A gloved hand traced the back of Charlotte’s arm, and Charlotte wondered when she had felt so comfortable giving Camilla such intimate permission. “Or swing an axe, if it comes to it.”

“You’re certainly _strong_ enough to maintain posture. But your axe technique is self-taught, no? And you mock your enemies. You dip and show your chest off mid-battle.” Camilla ran that same hand down Charlotte’s spine, measuring. “You have a slouch, and you’re in the habit of leaning forward to put yourself on display. While effective, it’s rather crude for polite society.”

Charlotte was crimson under the attention. “She’s still watching.”

Camilla brushed the worry off with a wave of her hand. “She could stand to learn some discipline.”

Another choking cough from the back of the room.

“So your first lesson will end with a time-tested method for poor posture. A tome, balanced upon your head. If you can walk with it, curtsey with it, dance without it falling, you’ve mastered position. And for every time it falls, there will be a punishment.”

“A punishment?” Charlotte grimaced.

“Oh, nothing severe. Besides, isn’t a vault of gold a sufficient reward?”

“Do your royal worst.” Charlotte grinned, moistening her lips.

***

The tome was a morbid history of a mythical country, and every time it fell from Charlotte’s head Selena cried out aloud as if in pain. Camilla’s swift hands, however, never once let it touch the floor. It was infuriating enough to have to prance with the unstable thing atop the crown of her head; worse, however, was being required to sit and endure a conversation with Selena while maintaining that posture. After hours of training, Charlotte had almost managed to sit and talk with the redhead without the book tumbling. Her core muscles ached as badly as the first time she’d lifted her axe.

“Anyway, just ‘cause you’re the strongest doesn’t mean I couldn’t take you in a fair fight. I’m practically as strong as you are, anyway, and not half as clumsy.” Selena could go on like that for hours; Charlotte had endured almost an hour yet. She fumed – but of course, that was part of the test. Managing the mask. Nevertheless, the book held steady as Selena continued.

“I could dance circles right around you before you so much as had your chest out.”

“You TWERP!” Charlotte growled, leaning forwards precariously. “You couldn’t stop a cow and you couldn’t stop Benny and you sure can’t stop me!”

“Oh, well, I suppose if I can’t stop a cow I might have some trouble with you, huh?”

Charlotte’s cheeks reddened, and she coiled as if to spring on the mercenary – and the book tumbled.

The willow reed, lithe and elastic, whipped with a swift and solid sound against the skin of Charlotte’s rear.

“You’re slouching! Back straight, arms to your sides! You’d be ripping out the seams in your dress, if you were wearing one! Do you want to be a laughingstock?” The haughty voice burned in Charlotte’s ears as her armored body jolted upright, into a straight-backed seated position.

Not just upright; she kept rising, until she was eye-to-eye with the still-smiling woman, so close she could smell the honeyed-tea scent of her. “I’ll give  _YOU_  ripped seams!” She snarled, her fingers curling into a fist.

Camilla smiled serenely as Charlotte rose towards her like a comet. “That’s quite a way to threaten a Princess.”

Charlotte hesitated for only the briefest moment, and Camilla was against her, chest to chest, her hand around Charlotte’s clenched fist. Charlotte’s body seized and stopped.

“Come back tomorrow, darling, and I’ll let you make good on it.”

Charlotte’s reply was stifled by the press of Camilla’s lips. As plush as she was, the kiss was firmer than she’d have imagined it to be. Warm. Hypnotic. Her eyes fluttered and shut, and her fist unclenched. She reached for Camilla, to draw her in, Camilla’s warmth against hers, in what must have been pure instinct.

And the moment she touched Camilla, the woman was away. “I think that’s quite enough for one evening. We’ve pushed your lovely heart to its limit. But you’re ever so much more proficient than you were, you know. And you kiss well enough to steal a prince.”

Charlotte, crimson, seized the tome and fled the tent.

***

“Did you HAVE to do that? Really?” Selena pouted, after Charlotte had gone.

“Yes, I believe I did. It was useful. And rather pleasant, come to think of it.” The tall woman looked down at her retainer, and pulled her into her arms. “She needs your expertise too, you know. Besides, what do you have to be jealous of?” She stroked Selena’s hair, serene, and felt the girl relax. “You’re always warning me you might disappear. And nobody else does for me what you do. There’s no replacing you, darling.”

“Long as you promise.” Selena grumbled against her Mistress’s chest, her voice serene.

“I promise.”

***

“Charlotte! You were gone for hours. I thought you were just visiting the courier to deliver a packet home.” Benny sat by the fire, darning a woolen sock.

Charlotte’s back was straight, her posture ferocious. “I made an investment in future plans, Benny-boy. We’re gonna move up in the world!” For all her braggadocio, her heart rushed. “Do me a favor, and let me borrow that cushion. And some of the ointment you make.” Her eyes flared; Benny knew better than to ask questions.

“Whatever you say, Charlotte.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through Part Two! Also, so much appreciation to Z for inspiration, proofreading, and encouragement.


	3. Lesson Three: Nobility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobles are all so old and boring! Charlotte fears that Lady Camilla is only using her. 
> 
> Until Camilla makes an irresistible proposition.

 

“Panae Tertius?”

“Her Grace the Duchess of Macarat. Widowed by sickness, three idiot sons, none ready to take up the duchy.”

“Albrecht Kunst?”

“Easy. His Lordship Viscount of the Western Reach. Lives in a mansion in the Woods of the Forlorn. At LEAST 70, no children, but nobody expects him to kick off soon ‘cause everyone says he’s a lich.”

“ _Nobody_ says that.”

“I got family in the Western Reach. EVERYONE said that!” Charlotte ground her teeth.

Selena coughed. “Awful place to get stuck, huh? And nobody you’re _going_ to meet says that. Nobility’s all related to each other anyway, anyone you meet might be his second nephew or something. If anything, at least you’ll finally bring new blood to the dusty old…”

“That is quite enough of _that_.” The tallest woman in the room sat cross-legged in her cushioned chair, serenely keeping court.

“You don’t count, Lady Camilla. You’re only half…” Selena went pale.

The only sound in the room was the soft ‘clink’ of a wine glass on a table. “Only half dusty old inbred noble? I suppose I am, at that. But it was the good half, and I’ll not have either of you learning courtly habits like purposeless insults.” She smiled, beneath the curtain of her hair. “Insults must be forethought and calculated. And, for the record, the Forlorn Mansion is only Viscount –“ she pronounced it ‘Vy-comt’ “-Kunst’s ancestral seat. He’s never left Windmire in his life. And he’s repulsive.”

“Repulsive’s right. Any time someone in the village would scrape a year’s harvest outta the ground, his retinue was there to seize it all before anyone could so much as touch the crops. He’s disgusting.” Charlotte’s voice was far away.

“He’s a greedy wretch that would starve a village if it would move him an inch closer to the throne. Fortunately, he’s quite far from succession, so that’s not to worry about. But he’s become quite active lately at court, which is always cause for alarm.” Camilla nodded. “Disgusting, indeed.”

“Lady Camilla…” Charlotte sighed, deep. “Is the whole court really this old? Because it sounds like there’s not a single eligible guy with half a brain in his head or half a coin in his purse.”

Camilla took a long moment, her dark red eyes meeting Charlotte’s own, hypnotic as a viper. It took Charlotte too long to break free – in moments like that, she could only think of Camilla’s fingers around her wrist, Camilla’s lips against her own…

Charlotte’s rear still bore the sting of the reed, but she could identify all her flatware, could name nobles of Nohr and Cyrkensia and the Ice Tribe without hesitation. She had been eager to learn to dance, until she sat by the fire the previous evening.

She shook the memory away with a slight grimace. “I’m sayin’… You don’t actually mean for me to marry anyone there, do you?”

***

“I don’t get it, Charlotte. Why you?” A chill wind had set in, and Benny’s huge hands worked deftly with a pair of almost comically small knitting needles, knitting and purling row after row of warm yarn in preparation for the coming cold. “This place is SWARMING with minor nobles. Even Flora counts, right? And she already knows courtly manners, so…”

“It is a BOND, Benny! The bond between two women is unbreakable! Not like you’d know about that!”

“No, guess I wouldn’t, Charlotte. It just seems like you’re coming home all bruised up, and it doesn’t seem like she’s given you anything. She’s still a noble, after all. It might be she plays a really long game, or it might be she’s just like all the others.”

“She is NOT just like all the others, Benny. She’s here, she’s with us, she’s part of this army! You don’t see the leeches fighting with the commons, do you?”

“That’s true, she does. It’s just…” Benny sighed. “I heard stories, Charlotte. She’s here with us ‘cause she came just to kill her sister. You know, the one she loves? She was here to _kill_ her. Changed her mind. Travel all the way across Nohr to kill your sister, then change your mind?

“Benny, Silas hired US to kill that sister, too.”

“Yeah, fair’s fair. But we’re soldiers. You listen to the old stories Gunter tells, they make her out to be worse than that. She’s killed seven, maybe eight other royals, and their mothers besides, and commoners by the dozen. He even said she might’ve killed her own mother.” Benny’s voice was even and lake-placid, fear lurking beneath like some dark, finned sea-beast. “What goes on in that castle, it’s all a game to her. They say she took one sister to the Cursed Swamp, with all the carnivorous trees? She came back laughing. Alone.”

Benny put down his knitting, mindful of the color in Charlotte’s cheeks and the furrow of her brow. “Maybe you have an unbreakable bond between women, but I hope it’s better than all the other bonds that she-”

“I can take care of myself, Benny!” Charlotte roared. “This is a SHOT, Benny. I don’t care how ruthless she is, I’ve seen her on the field! She’s a monster! But we’ve worked too hard and fought too long to let this pass us by!”

“Pass you by, Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s tirade evaporated.

“She’s not grooming me to marry a prince, Charlotte. She’s taking you, and she’s only taking you. I’m happy for you, yeah? But if you get in trouble there, you’re gonna be on your own.” Benny grunted, took a poker, and pulled a kettle away from the fire. He gripped the hot iron handle with massive calloused fingers, and slowly poured a tin mug’s worth of tea. “And I don’t like that idea. So here, have a cup, while you know it’s still safe to drink, and while you’re still here with the rest of us low-born.”

It took Charlotte a long minute to reach for the cup, and she nodded. “And when I’m Princess Charlotte of Nohr, you’ll be there to raise a glass with me, right, Benny?” The tin trembled in her hands.

The mountain smiled, almost ruefully. “Wouldn’t miss it, Charlotte.”

***

“’Cause from what I’ve learned? There’s nobody there to marry.” Charlotte’s voice actually trembled softly with the pronouncement.

Selena favored Charlotte with a roll of her eyes, and turned to Camilla.

Camilla only smiled.

“Clever.  Your prospects in the Nohrian court are limited, it’s true, though Cyrkensia’s younger nobles show promise.”

“Cyrkensia’s been flattened.”

“Just so. Fortunes have been made by marrying into a dying branch of a noble family. But I suppose you deserve a true answer, don’t you?”

Charlotte held onto the table tight enough to make the wood groan.

“The blood of the court is, as my darling Selena so succinctly put it, dusty. Ancient. Inbred. And frankly stupid. Quite soon, there will be a question of succession.”

Charlotte held her breath.

“Typically my brother Xander would succeed the throne, as the only Prince of the true line. But the court of Nohr has meddled before in the line of succession. Already factions are forming around each of us, and the promise of peace with Hoshido is prompting open threats within Windmire.”

“Can’t you just… not fight for the throne? Turn it down? If you don’t want it so bad…”

“If my siblings all end up dead or exiled, what choice would I have?”

Charlotte shook, and the table snapped down its center. Camilla snatched her wineglass from its surface as it fell, without spilling a drop. She stood, and strode around the table.

“I have decided to reinforce my retinue, so that I may keep events on their correct course, and dissuade those who would meddle in the happiness of my family.”

Selena made a retching noise, across the table, and Charlotte glared daggers at the woman.

“But as you can see, I have a full complement of retainers, and their positions are not up for debate. I would slaughter half the court before releasing my hold on my darling Selena and Beruka.”

Selena’s prideful gaze was overcast by a sudden pallor.

“And so I must reinforce my position in an entirely different fashion.” Camilla strode around the table, her gloved hand tracing lightly along Charlotte’s shoulder in a way that made Charlotte’s heart twist and cry for help.

“I can choose to do that by installing my staunch allies within the court, but they must know how to operate independently of me.” Camilla removed her gloves, gracefully. Kidskin gave way to scarred fingers, each delicate.

“Or I may do that by taking a consort.”

Camilla’s fingernails drew ethereal lines along Charlotte’s arm. The sensation sent electric nerves screaming from Charlotte’s fingers to her heart, to her spine, to her brain. She woke Charlotte’s skin with her sharp, gentle draw, and the sensation lasted several seconds after her nails had passed. Charlotte’s head swam, and her lips parted in a soft sigh. Her skin felt warm, it felt…

Clean.

_It was always so filthy, in the underground paths that wound outside of Windmire. But only idiots and nobles traveled above Nohrian soil. All others with sense moved beneath. But to move, someone had to dig out the path._

_In one tunnel, a beanpole of a child swung a mining mattock. The huge thing was near the size of the child’s body, stick thin as a haft, but with each swing the child’s pick met stone, sent dirt and shards flying until the poor creature was near covered in the stuff. And still, she swung, her arms strong, her skin…_

Charlotte gasped, looked down at her hands, at the way Camilla clasped one, and felt clean.

She squeezed Camilla’s hand in surprise and response, and, to Camilla’s credit, by bravery or by the dullness of her senses, the Princess didn’t even wince.

Charlotte tried desperately to breathe. This was her shot.

Her whole body flushed, her loins ached, a stiffness between insistent and suddenly impossible to ignore. Charlotte squirmed in her chair. Princess-Consort?

She saw Selena roll her eyes once more, disgusted.

“What kinda idiot would say no to that?” Charlotte managed, her senses lost in the Princess’s mesmerizing smile, her hypnotic sway.

Camilla permitted herself a giggle. “None present then? In seriousness – if you fear risk, then refuse. The court is as deadly as a battlefield and twice as sinister, and your life will be in danger. I would not-“

Charlotte surged upwards. “Lady Camilla. With due respect to Your Highness’s concern…” Her face broke into a grin that could shear steel. “…Don’t be stupid.”

Camilla’s balance shifted, subtle and small, as she drew back ever so slightly. Charlotte’s manners were still rude, but her instincts had never been sharper. She had a royal on the ropes!

“You’ve seen me fight. You’ve seen this armor. Lifting my axe is a risk. Meeting a foe is a risk. But I’ve beaten down every risk, and worked to the bone doing it.” Charlotte advanced, catlike in her predation. “A dandy with a bottle of poison is going to make me back down? You think I’m afraid of a foxtrot? I’ve taken worse and seen worse every day in this army.”

Camilla edged back, footstep by footstep, until her back was planted against the wall of her chamber, and Charlotte’s hands were planted flat against the same wall to either side of the Princess. “I’ll show them a risk. I’ll give them something to be scared of. I’ll tear the entire court down, if it’ll get what you want!”

Camilla, in this compromised, close position, smiled – and Charlotte could not deny that her strong heart jackhammered in her chest smiled. “I’d ask for no less. But you are wrong, dear. There is far worse there than this army. But I’d not have chosen you were you not equal to the position.” Her eyes lidded, matching Charlotte in catlike affectation. “Equal to _all_ the requirements a Princess-Consort, in fact.

Selena seemed to be trying to melt into the rear wall. Charlotte only took the statement as permission to advance further, and so press on she did, body to breathless body, straddling one of Camilla’s thighs and letting the stiffness of her cock press and slide in its tight-bound prison against Camilla’s leg.

Camilla’s lips parted in the beginning of a moan, and Charlotte trapped her open lips with her own, firm and sweet.

“Going to rip my seams now?” Camilla murmured, against Charlotte’s enthusiastic lips. “Because if you don’t, my darling Selena will happily take your place…”

The loud THUMP of Charlotte’s fist echoed against the wall, punctuating her speech. “Selena can go jump in the Canyon!” Her hands found the neckline of Camilla’s house-gown, warm against her collarbone.

Charlotte pulled, hand from hand, with a smooth, easy motion, and the jagged rip of rending silk tore through the air – the only sound for several long moments as Camilla was freed from the elegant garment. There was a shivering rustle as the ruined gown slithered down Camilla’s curves to pool on the floor.

For a moment, Charlotte forced her eyes to meet Camilla’s own, and saw in them some small amount of trepidation, but that emotion was paired with a fiery ambition, with what might well be…

Selena gave an involuntary whimper of desire, her leather-gloved hands grasping at the wall, dragging her upright. “Lady Cam-“

“Hold.” Camilla almost gasped. The woman took a breath, raising her chest against the warmth of her conqueror, and let her eyes trail downwards, drawing Charlotte’s gaze inexorably downward, across lush breasts, and further to the inward sweep and hourglass of her waist, her hips. “This moment is hers by right.”

Selena’s sword rattled in its scabbard, set in motion by her trembling hand. Charlotte only glanced her way for a moment – were those tears?

“Yes, Lady Camilla!” The retainer snapped to attention, erect – if no less shaken. “I’ll see to it that she is not interrupted!” The heavy, ponderous sound of the chamber door, closed far more forcefully than necessary.

The satisfying, oiled click of the sturdy iron as it fell into place, locking it securely.

The warm, frustrated sound of a weight fallen back against the door, rattling it in its frame.

Camilla pressed one finger to the underside of Charlotte’s chin, drawing her attention back to its new home. “She understands. Her relationship is complicated, and though she claims our evenings are nothing to her, they cannot ever be more than a balm for her wounded heart.”

“Her, wounded? She’s a splinter at best.”

“She is my beloved retainer. And yours, if you become part of my house.” Camilla’s warmth made Charlotte’s head spin. Blasted dragon-blood, she expected. Charlotte anchored herself, pressing Camilla once more to the wall.

“I don’t need a retainer. I’ve got what I need right here.”

She couldn’t even think about the wealth, not with the weight of Camilla’s breast against her palm, with the musk of shared desire in the air, with her lips tight to the Princess’s. Her own body – rugged muscle beneath its soft disguise – moved and pulled at the taller woman with a familiar ease, and Camilla sighed softly as she relinquished control to her new consort.

Soft skin hid her muscles, and iron clanged against the floor as she tore her collar away, freed her halter, tore at her panties to let the length of her rise, hot and needy. She was beyond reason; beyond the fear of exposure, beyond the lack of experience, beyond the terror that Camilla wouldn’t-

Camilla’s soft, scarred hand cupped her at her root. Delicate enough to cradle orchids, her hands caressed and smoothed along the sensitive skin.

Charlotte had no mask for this, could not disguise the low of pleasure from her throat as she slid along Camilla’s taut, soft inner thigh, the feel of her own body new and vibrant, more than a centerpiece for attention, more than a finely tuned weapon. Delicacy, sweetness, love came with Camilla’s touch as she wrapped her fingers about Charlotte’s shaft, covering it with the slickness of fragrant oils.

Charlotte couldn’t be sure whether Camilla was guiding her or yielding to her desires, and she gave it no thought – they both moved as one, Camilla turning, her warm hand on Charlotte’s skin; Charlotte grasping Camilla by the waist, feeling the smooth rustle of her lilac hair against her cock. Led towards, guided, instructed, permitted, Charlotte found the musk and warmth of Camilla against her, and pressed into her Princess’s very core.

Inelegant. Brutish. Charlotte was swallowed in her fervor by Camilla’s welcoming body, and she shivered as her own hips met Camilla’s rear – soft, but, like Charlotte herself, concealing power.

Camilla moaned, a clutch-and-release on Charlotte’s cock. Charlotte gasped in response, pressed Camilla to the wall. She pulled back, and a cool rush of air caressed her length, sending her scent aloft. Spurred on, her hands gentler than her hips, she thrust, sliding back home into Camilla’s velvet.

The wall shook, fixtures rattled as Camilla was forced bodily against it with all the strength Charlotte could muster, and Charlotte didn’t even notice. She had one duty in that moment, and set herself to it body and soul.

So dedicated she was that she couldn’t hear the muffled moans from the other side of the door, the frantic rustle of cloth, and hungry gasps.

Her world was Camilla. Her back straight, posture impeccable, she claimed her Princess, her prize. She knew not how long she shook the walls, gripped Camilla to her; she knew the ecstasy of it, the sudden rush, her own alto grunt, and an overwhelming release, like the pull of the sea on her heart. Her skin was sensitive, her body electric, her mind afire as she spilled herself within. All thought of romance gone, she clutched beneath Camilla, finding her length, pinching and pulling and stroking, until she the sound she desired rose around her.

The tide washed over them, pleasure engulfing and buoying them, then retreated – and Charlotte gasped for air, her eyes treated to the sight of Camilla’s smooth, scarred back before her.

Hells! She’d just…

Camilla lowed softly, her heavy breasts hanging painfully, and levered herself up until her back met Charlotte’s breasts, compressing them softly. Charlotte pawed through her lilac hair, kissed and nipped at her cheek and her ear, and Camilla’s sigh was almost a giggle.

“And thus are we joined. Come, Princess-Consort Charlotte,” she purred. “We still have to teach you to dance.”

 


	4. Lesson Four: Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who'd have thought that several hours of dancing with Nohr's most obnoxious nobles could take such a toll on a person? And what's worse, Severa's there, too.
> 
> Life becomes complicated for Charlotte.

“It has been _ever_ so delightful spending this waltz with you, Your Lordship! Please pardon my rudeness, but a lady does occasionally require a moment!” A saccharine smile, and Charlotte practically flung away a Marquis – it shocked her for a heartbeat to think that she could think of such a person as a _nobody_ now, and in any case this one WAS a nobody. But she knew she’d be the finest thing he saw all night, in her cream satin gown, the one that – as Camilla had promised – didn’t _show her off_ so much as _accentuated_ her bounty. Charlotte had to admit that the description Camilla gave her (in a particularly intimate moment) fit nearly as well as the dress itself.

So she was content to let the nobody Marquis stand alone, head spinning, at the end of the waltz as she stalked – as elegantly as she could possibly muster – towards one of the several powder-rooms arranged around the perimeter of the grand hall. They were, she understood now, a gift – a necessity for anyone who needed to re-apply cosmetics or simply escape the _horrible_ breath of the next name down on the dance card.

The fact that someone had blocked that room off with a royal purple velvet cordon hardly slowed her – she ripped it from its moorings with hardly a tug. Camilla had advised her to be polite, but not too polite, and waiting for her turn seemed rather too polite to Charlotte at that moment.

She slammed the door behind her and flung her high-heeled dress shoes across the room. The squared point of one heel pierced the wall and embedded itself firmly in the painted plaster; the other went straight through, leaving a neat hole between two mirrored dressing-tables.

“Gods-blasted dancing! If I have to break my feet just to be polite to a bunch of ancient goats who’ve never seen a day of honest work, I’ll go insane. But at least I’ll be in good company! Lord Albrecht drools enough to make a girl wonder if he can see past her…”

“He does that.”

Charlotte spun on her stockinged feet, her tendons reacting with an instant blaze of pain. She was SURE she hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave the powder room. And yet…

SHE was there.

“Poor little princess couldn’t make it all the way through her first ball, huh?” Selena gloated, thin-lipped.

“I’m not a Princess yet!” Charlotte spat back. “And you didn’t tell me how long these were! Or how bloody boring and vile the people are.” Not that she would have refused one a week prior – but fortunes change.

“What did you expect?” Selena laughed, and leaned against one of the room’s dressing tables. She crossed her arms behind her head. “They’re nobles. That’s how all of these go.”

Charlotte landed with a _thump_ on the fainting-couch, her legs having finally made their case to the rest of her body.  “Oh, I bet you’ve had to dance with plenty of nobles, sitting alone in the corner there. Shouldn’t you be out there, with your Princess? _Doing your job?_ ” Charlotte’s voiced etched disdain into the stone floor. “You’re certainly dressed for it. If you came looking for a suitor, you-“

Selena stiffened at that. “Lady Camilla understands. She knows I’m here. Besides, Beruka’s out there. Our Princess is perfectly safe.”

“BERUKA?” Charlotte scoffed. “I didn’t see her in the hall.”

Selena shrugged. “You wouldn’t have. So, playing Princess already too much for you?”

Charlotte bristled. “Someone like you wouldn’t understand the pressure of nobility.”

“Wouldn’t understand? I grew up-“ Selena clenched her fist, and snapped short the words.

“In a court? That explains so MUCH.” Charlotte sneered from the chaise. “What’s someone like you doing slumming it as a mercenary, then? Want to see how the other half live AND keep your shopping sprees? Need to pretend to work a little after your _perfect_ childhood?”

In a flash, Selena was eye to eye with Charlotte, staring her down, her hands braced on the wall behind the chaise. “Yeah. It was pretty perfect. Way too perfect. And now I’ve lost it, so here I am, just like you.”

“You’ll never be _just like me_. I’m prettier, I’m stronger, and I worked harder. You grew up wearing horrible shoes and getting drooled on. I dug out the roadway tunnels of Windmire, so that the likes of you could take carriages around.” Charlotte nearly choked on the size of the memory – the sense was so strong, the pick in her hand, dust and silt clogging her lungs and coating her skin. But it’d been worth it – nobody was stronger than she was, and she and Benny were able to scratch together enough to wheedle two Heart Seals from that traveling merchant.

Instinctively, her hands went to her chest – her prizes, only slightly occluded by her elegant ballgown. She’d spent so long imagining them that she still reflexively pressed at them on occasion, as though to be certain they were real. At first, she had to imagine as she clutched her little handmade charm to her chest – locks of her own blonde hair woven netlike around an opal-shimmering stone. It warded off the fears at night – the what-if’s and but-hows that swarmed her like wasps. Then, slowly, day by day, the pain – as though seeds grew beneath her nipples, the sensitivity, the watching her reflection like a hawk in the cracked mirror, straining her eyes for the change. Soon enough…

It felt like freedom. The Heart Seal had made it easier for her family to accept – they made of you what was in your heart, after all. It had been a decree, a weight lifted off her shoulders. When the bolt struck home, it proved everything she knew to be true, ashed all of her fears. She had had to wait for many of the physical effects, but she’d become who she truly was.

And Benny had actually smiled, and rubbed at his itching chin. The rare grin looked better on him, even when hardly a day had passed. The hulking boy from the farm village who talked to the city dogs and made his charms and promised her she was right about who she was, because he could see it, too…

Everything else would be smooth sailing, after that. She’d promised him. And because he was Benny, he’d believed her. ‘We made ourselves up, Benny-boy. We’ve done the hardest thing anyone can do, and it’ll be clear from here. We’re not alone. No matter how much we had to hurt, we’re not alone.”

Charlotte’s eyes fogged.  “I earned where I am and who I am. I didn’t get any of it from _Mommy_!”

Selena choked. In a moment of sudden clarity, Charlotte noticed her eyes were dark, her cheeks slightly puffy, telltale streaks of salt…

“You’ve been crying.” The malice in her voice evaporated as Selena’s tears began to flow – no wonder the powder room had been vacant.

“So what if I have!” Selena forced through a sob. “Everything _Mommy_ gave me is gone. Dead or disappeared. Even my…” She choked on a sob. “And just as I found a place here, some idiot cow shows up, and Lady Camilla NEEDS her. You understand Lady Camilla. You can be dressed up. You might not just disappear someday…” Another quiet, tearful gasp. “You’ll shake up the court just as she likes, give her surety. I’m just a slumming mercenary…”

What would Benny have done? There was something soft against Selena’s cheek – Charlotte had retrieved a silk handkerchief, and was dabbing at Selena’s tears. “I’m out of my league out there, Sel.” She whispered. “They frighten me. They could crush my family without a thought. They _have_.” Charlotte hesitated only a moment before pulling the redhead down to her, to the couch.

“We both made ourselves up, right?” The words were conspiratorial, there on the chaise. “We’ve both had nothing. We’ve been lost and adrift. We had to be strong when nobody else was there. Well, you’re not alone.” Charlotte pressed her lips to Selena’s forehead-

-and the woman nearly exploded upwards. Charlotte leaned backwards to avoid the lash – and found her lips trapped by Selena’s own, hot, salt-stung from tears. Charlotte gasped in shock, but Selena was insistent, pressing in passionately, her heart run wild. Charlotte relented, her lips softening. Selena’s tongue darted and dared against Charlotte, capricious and mercenary in her affection. Her slender body pressed to Charlotte’s, bore her down onto the fainting-couch – appropriate, as Charlotte’s vision blurred and her pulse rushed.

Charlotte felt Selena’s hand groping down, along her skirts, rough and hungry, until she clenched along Charlotte’s stiffness. Her hand was soft, for a mercenary. With a strange, practiced gentleness, Selena caressed Charlotte to readiness with long strokes through her silken gown.

“Lady Camilla’s indisposed, so this is your responsibility, too…” Selena murmured, releasing Charlotte and pushing her skirts up about her waist. Charlotte, in turn, grasped for Selena’s leathers, pulled free her knots, pulled them down about her ankles.

“Selena…” Selena silenced her with a swift squeeze of the hand around her cock.

“If we’re to do this… when we do this? My name is Severa.” And in that second, Severa pounced, warmth to warmth. Charlotte reveled in the ready, musky dampness of her, and Severa moaned as she rubbed long against Charlotte once – twice…

And then, with a deep breath, took the woman to the hilt in one decisive stroke. Charlotte clutched at Severa’s back, her strength inescapable, and moaned the woman’s name. In response, she heard a soft, choked, “Luci…” Charlotte’s eyebrows raised, but as Severa descended once more, she exhaled in pleasure.

“Severa.” She whispered back, in her lover’s ear.

Severa’s eyes welled, and she lifted her hips, driving down against Charlotte again and again like a woman possessed, desperate to find a lost love in a new love’s heart. Charlotte held her close, spoke her name like a breeze, until the sweet friction of her heat sent Charlotte winging on ecstasy, soaring in Selena’s arms, spending herself sweet and full deep inside the other woman.

Severa shivered, her cry high-pitched and birdlike, her sweat profuse, staining Charlotte’s gown with blotched smears of exertion.

And with no more grace than that, Selena unceremoniously pushed off her lover and pulled up her leathers without even bothering to clean up.

“That’s… it?” Charlotte gasped, her head clearing. She pushed herself up from the couch. “That’s all you were here for, then? Just waiting for…”

She was interrupted by the slow click of the door handle.

“I see my darlings are getting along just _beautifully_.” The woman in the door practically spilled forth from lavender silk, shimmering in the evening. “You’re quite missed in the ballroom, dear.” A hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, a quick spritz of strong ambergris that made her cough. “There. They’ll hardly suspect you took advantage of my inattention to claim my poor delicate Severa, will they?”

Charlotte gracefully, though stiff-muscled, took Camilla’s hand, and favored Selena with a wink.

“Come to me with those problems anytime, okay? We’re all in this together, now!”

The red-headed mercenary shot the pair a crimson-cheeked glare, and murmured “Cow…”

And as soon as the door closed once more, she let the smile spread across her cheeks, the tears staunched for a moment.

****


	5. Lesson Five: Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte has what she wanted, doesn't she? 
> 
> So why's she so un-satisfied?

“It’s cold!”

The petulant outburst rang off the stone walls of Castle Krakenburg, loud enough to muffle the crackle and pop of the fire blazing in the hearth of the royal suite.

Though the chill had set in to Windmire, she’d weathered far worse. Weathered it while out of doors, barely clothed.

She was nevertheless cold, or something very much like it.

She tugged a bellpull, and demanded a hot cup of tea. It arrived on a silver platter in a serving cart, in a an elegant bone-porcelain cup, just as fine and delicate as the hand that took gentle hold of the porcelain, as delicate as the lips to which it was lifted.

It didn’t taste much like tea, to her. Tea came in a kettle off of the fire, with a boiled char you drowned out with milk and honey, if you had any. You drank it in a tin mug, and it burned your tongue and warmed all the way down. On winter nights she’d pinch some barrel-spirits, just a finger or two, to add to the brew. It always brought color to her cheeks.

She couldn’t even recognize the flavor of the dark liquids in the crystal decanters in the cabinet, and she was certain it was poor manners to adulterate good tea with booze.

She plucked the cut crystal stopper from a bottle and poured the peat-scented liquid inside into her tea, just the same.

It was the most awful thing she’d ever tasted in her life.

It was something very much like being cold. The tastes were wrong, the sounds were wrong. She wore fine dresses and ate heartily - meals with meat in them! And she ate at a grand table, with Selena and silent Beruka and sometimes even Camilla, when she was not with her family (as she always was).

So why was she still so cold? Her chilled fingers rattled the porcelain cup in its saucer, and an involuntary flex of her fingers snapped the handle cleanly off the vessel, bitter, boozy liquid sloshing as it shivered and settled down.

The plan had worked perfectly.

The Princess-Consort mused on her success as she sat in the rococo chair, with its plush pillow. The Court had realized through gossip – almost certainly spread by Selena - that Princess Camilla would not have an heir to her line; that the royal Nohrian bloodline would end with her should she have her say. That she had taken in a slum-child-turned-barbarian, dressed her up fine, and together they broke several hearts, even more social mores, and a scheme to the throne. The removal of Xander would create a power struggle; worse, Camilla’s ascension could put an urchin on the royal seat, with her lascivious laugh and too-wide eyes. Soirees had quickly taught the court to approach Charlotte with caution, lest it risk attention too intense, and too feral, for its preference. And so it was that the Nohrian royal line was secured, and Princess Camilla made good on a singular ambition – evasion of the throne, and preservation of her family.

“Good for her.” Charlotte grumbled.  It wasn’t that she was alone. She had grown closer to Selena – and to Severa – their occasional unions both romance and tragedy. They went shopping together, and Charlotte gladly carried the dozens of trinkets and boxes Selena almost thoughtlessly acquired. But she would never be any more than a stopgap, would she? A convenient replacement for some girl long gone, that Selena would blush and cry over but never talk about.

And so she was in the royal bedchamber, all in silks, holding shattered porcelain, alone.

“This was our big break, Benny-boy.” She muttered to herself. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the soft click of his needles, the swift knots that bound the homemade charms he made, the clatter of the teapot lifted from the fire. He would approve, she knew. She’d made it.

Could he make it without her? Could he even last a week alone in the army, with his sweet solitary nature, without her help?

She wasn’t a princess, but she was closer than she’d ever dared hope, and the reality of it was even more sumptuous than her straw-pallet dreams had suggested. And yet…

Well, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, was it? All the attention she could want from people who feared her, who fled her gaze once her tea was delivered. People who used to be of higher station than she, bowing. It felt good, in an awful, sick way. She was supposed to have pursued her future love, the one who would indulge her whims.

Except she’d been the one pursued, and while her whims were certainly indulged, they were almost never addressed by the one who pursued her.

“You’ve broken the good porcelain again, darling?” The voice was rich and full, and Charlotte looked up with a start – Camilla could be terrifyingly silent when she wished to be. Behind her, Selena entered. Beruka hung back, and was gone before the door was closed.

“If it got your attention, I’d break it all.” The blonde responded, a pout in her voice.

“Petulant child. Isn’t this all you dreamed of? It’s all the secrets you told me, to the letter.”

“I told you those in bed, beside you. I had hoped…” She cleared her throat, screwed her courage up til her cheeks turned red. “Was I only fulfilling my duties those nights, as Princess-Consort?”

Camilla quirked an eyebrow, still smiling. She plucked the porcelain from Charlotte’s fingers, laid It delicately on the silver tray. The motion leaned her forward, bearing down over Charlotte, face to face. “Was that not all you wanted?  Or have you grown fond of me, too?” She clasped Charlotte’s unmoving hand, filled the gaps between her empty fingers.

She was so warm.

“Is it my love, as well as my house, that you desire?” There was a dangerous undercurrent in those words. “You may not know how I love.”

_‘You listen to the old stories Gunter tells, they make her out to be worse than that. She’s killed seven, maybe eight other royals, and their mothers besides, and commoners by the dozen. He even said she might’ve killed her own mother. What goes on in that castle, it’s all a game to her.’_

Benny’s words rang in her ears as sure as if he were there with her. Swallowing her fear, she replied. “I know it is dangerous. I know you would kill for love.”

“Carefully chosen words.” Scarred fingers interlaced Charlotte’s own. “I have killed those I loved. Some to prevent their escape, some by order of another love, some out of duty, one…” She shivered. “One out of purest love itself. Could you desire a thing such as that?”

Charlotte was not taken aback by the confession, but by the perfect frankness with which it was spoken. No tears shed for the lost. No time spent on her deeds, once carried forth. It made Charlotte’s blood catch fire. A monster, they called her…

“Are you stupid?” Charlotte retorted. “I spent nights wondering if you truly wanted me, or if I was just some convenient cow!” Selena lowered her head in what might have been shame. “What do you actually want from me, Princess Camilla?”

The Princess’s lavender hair clouded her thick like smoke as they remained there, nose-to-nose. An agonizingly long moment passed before. “Everything I have received – and a new measure of bravery, if you truly wish this pursuit.

“You will risk your heart and your life for me, if I love you. You will live at my whim, not yours, if I love you. You will do just as I say and demand, without fail.”

“Have I failed yet? I suffered through everything, I let you train me like an animal-”

“I have yet to make a demand. Kneel.”

Charlotte’s knees hit the floor as though her cushioned perch had vanished from beneath her.

“Everything you have done was in pursuit of this. This pretty gilded aerie, where you’re safe from the things you feared most, where you can protect yourself and your own. You have done very little in pursuit of _me_.”

The words held no malice – they were simple statements of fact. Camilla stalked ‘round her consort, her fingertips tracing along and through Charlotte’s hair. The same opulence that kept Charlotte so on edge was Camilla’s home, and it was so easy for her to simply claim the upper hand by right…

“Your love…” Charlotte started. It was shockingly easy to see, once her greed had been appeased, even from her position on the plush carpet. “It’s broken, isn’t it? You talk about it so much ‘cause you wanna hide it. Am I right?” The edge on her voice had been sanded down and softened, but she was quick to seize her moment, despite Selena’s near-frantic gesticulation. “I’m not the only one who’s got a mask. You said so.”

Camilla’s fingers tightened ferociously in her hair, then relented. “I suppose I selected you for your perceptiveness, didn’t I?” Charlotte’s heart swam in the sea of her chest, adrift. “One of many reasons, dear.” Camilla added, almost carelessly, when she saw the expression that crossed Charlotte’s face. “But you are correct, in your way.” There was a strange weariness to the admission.

“I am afraid, darling Charlotte. Afraid that I will have to do something vile. I have had to _so many times_. So I keep my distance, in case I-“

“What, you think I couldn’t take you?” Charlotte grinned up from the floor at the bewildered Princess. From this angle, she could see the scar that closed ‘round Camilla’s left eye, beneath the fall of hair pinned in place by her tiara. Selena had, for some reason, gone pale.

“You’re talking about maybe having to kill me, but that’s not what you’re afraid of.” Charlotte pressed on. “We both know it’s not that easy, so that’s nothing.” Charlotte wrapped her arms about the Princess’s thighs. “We know. You don’t want to lose anyone else, so you keep us just out of reach…” Camilla opened her mouth to protest – and was silenced by a pair of arms, embracing her from behind.

“You’re ours, Lady Camilla…” Selena murmured into her ear as Charlotte nuzzled into the warmth of her Princess’s thighs. Camilla’s lips parted again in a caught breath as Selena, with unthinkable daring, placed a kiss, low and strong and full, against the side of her Lady’s neck. Charlotte felt the swelling heat she’d searched for, and kissed through silk along her Princess’s draped length. Camilla’s grip on Charlotte’s hair tensed, then released, her body yielding to the love of her consort and retainer. Charlotte stood, and Camilla clasped her hand tight as her loves led her to the canopied bed.

Camilla merest shrug sent the silk of her dress slithering across her curves and down, along her stomach and legs, to pool in a vibrant puddle on the floor. Charlotte had less experience with fine dresses; Camilla turned and undid a few clasps and pulled at a bone-corset lacing, and Charlotte found herself exposed to the world. Poor Selena, trapped as she was in leathers and armor, fumbled red-cheeked with buckles and straps until Charlotte and Camilla came to her aid, plucking away her metal, delicately sliding leather straps from their padded harnessing, and finally pulling the woman free from her cocoon – for several moments, Selena refused to meet their eyes, but softened as Camilla’s hand traced down her back and urged her to the waiting sheets.

Even unclothed, it was so much warmer.

Camilla did not once protest as Charlotte took hold of her shoulders, pushed her down into the softness, and descended, first with her liege, then along her body. Past the swell of her breasts, Charlotte’s fingers traced their path, along her stomach and past her navel, ‘til Charlotte found the prize she sought. “Ours.” She whispered. Charlotte’s lips parted to worship her liege.  Selena’s own lips found home as she kissed Camilla’s neck once more, hard enough to leave a mark. “Ours,” she murmured in echo, her hands rougher, more eager, pinching and tugging at Camilla’s swells.

She was so warm, warmer than Charlotte had ever known. Charlotte embraced that warmth with a new eagerness, a new desire. She had love to prove, and Camilla would not be permitted shrug it off or step back out of fear. Those who loved her most were with her. Camilla’s head tilted back in a sweet, pleasured moan at Charlotte’s worship, and her breath caught at Selena’s demands, punctuating the sound. Charlotte felt a hand in her hair, spurring her further, as the woman who so feared love invited Charlotte to complete her.

Charlotte closed her eyes in bliss, her cheeks hollowing, and so she almost didn’t notice when Selena, tightly-muscled, small-breasted, fire-eyed Selena – swung her leg up and over to straddle her mistress’s shoulders. Camilla met Selena’s eyes, and nodded, and Selena rocked forward to claim her Lady’s lips. Camilla, in turn, parted hers and tasted Selena’s passion, coaxed the mercenary’s voice upwards with each flick of her tongue.

“’Milla…. Camilla!” Charlotte felt Camilla’s hand tighten as she paused for air, and heard Camilla’s muffled groan of pleasure and approval. Selena was there, with them, not making love to another woman in another time but to one she adored, guileless and true.

Their hearts beat in time, and Camilla pulled at sheets in pleasure and brushed the tears from her eyes as she opened herself to that fullness for the first time, and found it warm and sweet and overwhelming in its power.

Selena cried out in ecstasy first, her muscled back tensing, releasing, rocketing swift to pleasure true to her firebrand nature. Camilla followed her several moments later, parting her legs and locking them ‘round Charlotte possessively, clutching her close, demanding the love she had been offered. She twitched, arched her back, stiffened, and cried out, completing Charlotte in her joy. Charlotte accepted her Princess’s wonder, and gently, slowly released her to the cool air of the evening. She practically stared as Selena relinquished her perch, hungry for the sight of her love open, free from scheme and fear. The three panted, sweat dripping freely from Selena’s face onto the sheets, Camilla’s eyes wide as she felt the tremendous, fearless weight of love, held it within her, and, bit by bit, consumed it. She clutched her lovers close, the three commingled.

“I suppose after all that, it would be rude not to accept your gifts, wouldn’t it? But you won’t always catch me unawares, darlings. There is much in store for the two of you, my loves…”

Charlotte’s heart leapt in her chest, and for the moment, that was enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading all of this! If you have thoughts, please let me know! It makes it easier to write what people like, after all!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been wanting to write trans characters into political romance for a while now, and so all feedback is good feedback - comments here or on twitter at @otorosegarden are always appreciated! And many thanks to Zoh for her encouragement!


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